All events are time roses, the clenched fuck uncrumpling into a life as the species folds back to annelidan ancestors. There lies our dho-nha: a meaning bestowed retroactively by forms as yet unachieved but implicit. I see that the lloigor are simply ourselves, yet unfolded in time to an utter condition beyond the fhtagn of our usual perceptions. Time being a function of matter, this freeing of ultimate form may be hastened by pertinent sculpture.